


Soldier Bloom

by Fandom_Trash224



Series: Harrna Shuchi and the 473rd [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Actual Disney Princess Flowers, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Gen, Origin Story, flower symbolism, flowers is such a good lad please appreciate him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Trash224/pseuds/Fandom_Trash224
Summary: Flowers' journey to the 473rd, featuring lots of flowers, weird feelings, and things that would break a lot of people if they were not him.





	Soldier Bloom

CT-4676 was, by no means, the best trooper in the G.A.R. He wasn’t even the best trooper in his batch, really, but he was good enough to pass the final exam with his squad and be shipped out to a small settlement on a small planet that the people there called Tanxion.

He liked Tanxion. His squad-mates were always complaining about how quiet it was, about how bad the drinks down at the cantina were, about how hot and dusty it got every other week because of the planet’s weird seasonal cycles, but 4676  _ loved  _ it.

Well, he didn’t love the hot, dusty spells or bad drinks, but he  _ enjoyed  _ the quiet, he  _ enjoyed  _ the locals, and, as far as he could tell, they enjoyed him. Even back on Kamino, 4676  hadn’t been very interested in blaster training or battle strategy, which caused him to underperform in those tasks (which resulted in a scolding, more often than not), but when it came to environmental training, he always  _ aced _ it.

His batchers had asked him how he did it, but he couldn’t explain it. Not really.

“I’m just good with plants and animals.” He’d always say, because it was true.

And Tanxion? Tanxion was  _ full _ of plants and animals. The people there were always more than willing to talk with 4676 about them, and one of the elders had even given him several old, paper-and-bound journals for “observations”.

“Make notes, write down coordinates, even draw the things you like.”

And so, he did. That’s how he got his name, after all.

He had been sketching down a flower that a young girl from the settlement had given him, she had called it the Sunset Ladge, a pretty, four-petaled flower that started out yellow in the center, only for it to become a gradient as it reach the tip of each petal, turning to orange, then red, then a deep, rich purple. The people of the settlement loves the clones, appreciated them and their individuality, so a menagerie of gifts were given to them over time, including some rather nice pencils, both the normal and colored variety. 4676 was the only one in his squad that seemed to fully appreciate them.

“Hey 46,” he heard from behind him as he had begun to color the purple tips “Whatcha got there?” 

4676 had nearly jumped out his skin, swinging around to attack whoever had snuck up on him, only to see his brother, who had earned the name Turnt after a particularly wild night, giving him a lopsided grin. 4676 felt his face grow hot as he reached back to hurriedly close his journal, but it was too late, as Turnt had managed to get a hand around to snatch it away as 4676 made an indignant noise.

“Well, look what we have here,” Turnt said, flipping through the pages with an amused glint in his abnormal green eyes “Looks like my brother’s an artist, isn’t he? Look at all these pretty flowers! Bet the rest of the squad would  _ love  _ to see these.”

4676 had  _ tried  _ to stop him, but he wasn’t as fast or strong as Turnt was, so the journal was passed around, some, like Rain, who had always been nicer than the rest, remarked with genuine appreciation. Others, like Bantha, who had always been an ass, poked fun and teased him. It was Turnt, however, who gave 4676 his name.

“Well, if he likes flowers so much, why not name him after them?” 

And so, 4676 became Flowers, and he didn’t even mind it.

His last night with his first squad, who gave him his name and introduced him to the people of Tanxion, he saw an omen. That’s what the people had called the Red Snowblooms that were popping up around the settlement.

According to the people, all flowers had different meanings to them. Being presented a Sunset Ladge meant that the giver wished the receiver a happy life, a Purple Belltower was a sign of bad weather, and Red Snowblooms, well…

Red Snowblooms weren’t a good thing, and neither was the cold feeling in the pit of Flowers’ stomach.

He had tried to tell his squad, warn them that something bad was going to happen if they went out, but they all (even Rain themselves) brushed him off. It was Rain’s naming day, no way they weren’t going to celebrate  _ that _ . Flowers was “more than welcome to stay back at base”, though, and so he did.

The next morning, the settlement was nothing more than a burning pile of debris and bodies, and nothing but a few stray Snowblooms remained. A few of the settlers had been lucky, they escaped, but none of the clones had been so lucky. Rain, Turnt, Bantha, and even  _ Fresh _ , who was always so  _ alert _ , were found dead in the ruins of what used to be the cantina. Flowers was the only one left, so he did what any good soldier would’ve done, and called a Jedi.

His reassignment has been swift, and his time to pack up and leave was short. It was quick work, considering how little clones had, even with the gifts of paints and pencils and books, so he decided to help the rebuilding effort as best as he could, as well as go to mourn alongside the other survivors.

Where the people had constructed a graveyard, he watched with sad eyes as the people of Tanxion placed flowers with meanings upon the cold graves of the fallen, small mutterings of grief and unsaid things accompanying broken sobs. His feet moved of his own accord towards the graves that held his squadmates, staring with empty eyes as he dimly realized he didn’t know which ones to give. That’s when he felt something much shorter than him tug on his arm. 

He looked down, and stared into the deep brown eyes of the little girl that had once given him a Sunset Ladge, and she handed him another beautiful bloom. He stared at it in his open palm.

There were six petals, the one in the middle of the bottom much longer than the rest. All had a base color of cream, but the five smaller petals had triangles of yellow spanning out from the blue center of it, the tips of the shapes hitting the tips of the petals. The longer petal had a stripe of blue, all the way to the tip. It took Flowers a moment, but he realized the flower almost looked like a metal of some sort, or even a star.

“That’s the Soldier Bloom,” she said quietly “It means a lot of things, but when people die and they’re soldiers, it means that we’ll never forget their service, and what they did to help us. Only family can put it on their graves, though.”

Flowers was very glad to be wearing his helmet, because he didn’t want the little girl to see the tears welling in his eyes. He turned away, and placed be delicate bloom onto the grave of Rain, muttering a few words.

“ _ Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la _ .”

_ Not gone, merely marching away _ .

He didn’t know why the inspiration struck just then, but he sat down with his legs crossed, and pulled out one of the small journals he had learned to always carry with him, alongside both a regular pencil and colored ones, and sketched the flower carefully. He had an idea.

\---

His second squad placement was on a planet that was so uncivilized that it didn’t even have a proper name, instead being named by settlers, it was named after the system it was in. The Pantheon system had 36 planets in it, and he was assigned to Pantheon-12, a planet with dense rainforests and abundant wildlife.

Needless to say, Flowers was  _ thriving _ . Again, however, his squad was less than happy with the wild mood swings of different weather patterns that occurred. The sky could be clear for the entire day, but within a minute the clouds would roll in and unleash the hot, stifling rain they held. It was all they complained about, and it was why Flowers was always able to volunteer for perimeter duty of their outpost without much of a fight. Every time, he’d head to the very edges of the compound, sketching the plants and insects and occasional animals that he would see, not really checking the perimeter in proper. This hadn’t been a big deal to his  _ vode _ on Tanxion, but it was for the squad leader on Pantheon-12.

“They sent you here because you were a survivor,” the leader, Biter, had growled at him after catching him drawing a particularly complex bloom “I thought that meant you were brave, battle-hardened, but after reading your file, and seeing  _ this _ , now I understand that it only means you weren’t with your  _ vode _ to even  _ fight _ . You’re a coward, and you’re lucky that I have to keep you here, because if I had it my way, you’d be out of here in a heartbeat.”

Flowers didn’t like Biter much, and the feeling was mutual. Most of the other squad members had similar opinions, but Flowers didn’t care. He’d have to get over it, because they sure as hell wouldn’t, so he simply continued volunteering for perimeter duty and sketching whatever he could. One day, however, he rather regretted that choice.

He had been sketching a fern that, although abundant on the perimeter of the base, held certain qualities to it that Flowers found absolutely fascinating, including the ability for advanced movement to search for a light source (discovered when Flowers had covered a patch of them in shadow, and they all reached out almost instantly for the same spot of light), bioluminescent seeds (discovered in the same experiment), and even a sap that, while not as good as bacta, had some pretty good healing abilities (discovered when Flowers tripped, cut his arm, and was unable to reach the medic and used the leaves as a makeshift bandage until his shift was over). It was a good thing to know about for both himself and all the others stationed there, in case something ever happened and they had no medical kits.

Flowers was just thinking about how unlikely that would be when he saw it: a Separatist ship, flying towards the base. He squinted, and then his eyes  _ widened _ . It was a Separatist  _ bomber _ ship. Cursing, he grabbed his pack, full of journals and pencils, and began running back to base, yelling into his now activated comm,

“Bomber incoming, take cover! Get out of there!”

His words came a second too late. He could feel the bomber pass him with ease, a chill racing up and down his spine and settling in his stomach, and moments later, explosions rocked the ground, and dozens of creatures began to scurry around in fear, running from the source of it. Flowers’ breath caught in his throat as he ran towards it. 

The base was a smoldering pile of debris and fire, and the stench of burning fuel and flesh permeated the air and made Flowers sick to his stomach. He barely managed to pull his helmet off before retching, and promptly losing his breakfast onto the hard ground below. His brain screamed, because it happened  _ again _ , and he was alive  _ again _ , because he was  _ cowardfreakfailure _ \--

“-neral Shuchi of the 473rd, can anybody hear me?”

Flowers jolted back to himself as his communicator blared to life. He looked down at it and, without thinking, pressed the button to reply.

“Th-This is private Flowers of the Pantheon-12 Jungle base, I read you loud and clear, sir.”

“Good to hear someone’s alive down there,” Shuchi said, a sigh of relief pushing the words forward “The all-clear signal stopped broadcasting at your base, what happened?”

“Bomber caught us by surprise, sir. The base… the base was destroyed. I have reason to believe that I…” He trailed off, his eyes glued to the inferno in front of him. General Shuchi obviously understood.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, and it sounded like she meant it “Losing your squad is never easy. You said your name is Flowers, right?”

“Yessir.”

“Okay Flowers, here’s the deal: The base you’re located at is too much of a hot zone for us to land there to pick you up. However, my captain informs me there’s another, older base located on the planet. We can pick you up there.”

Flowers heard the pause in the general’s voice, and allowed himself a moment to take in what was happening. What supplies did he have? Would it be enough to get to the other base? What if droids had already taken it?

He took a breath. He couldn’t afford to be negative. Not before, and not right then, not if he wanted to survive (and not if he wanted to keep the Separatists from getting Pantheon-12).

“I understand. How long away is it?”

There was another pause, but this time, he could hear the general speaking to someone else in the background. It was distant, but he could hear the tell-tale accent of one of his  _ vode _ speaking to her. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, so they were more than likely  _ just  _ within range of the communicator they were using to reach him.

“Three days,” Shuchi said, and Flowers could almost hear the cringe in her voice “I’m so sorry, Flowers. Will you be okay? We can try to find another rendezvous point closer to yo--”

“I’ll be alright, general,” Flowers said, sounding more confident than he felt about his survival “Can’t promise I’ll be there in  _ exactly _ three days, but I’ll do my best.”

“We won’t leave without you, I promise.”

At first he almost laughed, thinking it was a joke, but when the seriousness of the general’s tone hit him, when he felt something warm tickle the back of his neck, he realized she wasn’t joking. 

“Thank you, sir.” He whispered, awe-struck.

“It’s no problem, Flowers. And please, call me Harrna.”

\---

It had taken five days for Flowers to get to the base, and by that point he had run out of food, clean water, filled an entire journal, and, somehow, made a new friend. 

The other troopers and their general, Harrna, stared on in a mixture of awe, confusion, and fear as Flowers walked into the camp, weak, bruised, dirty, and with a rather large, fat, and imposing creature behind him. 

The creature was this large, pink amphibious thing with a flat, wide head, beady eyes, and fat rolls all over its body. It was so huge, it could’ve flattened almost the entire company of clones that were staring, and from its large line of a mouth was almost a waterfall of sticky,  _ wet _ drool that was smeared everywhere the creature walked by its long, blunt tail. Frankly, it was disgusting, but Flowers didn’t even look phased, even if parts of his armor appeared to be coated in the same substance. 

Flowers himself most definitely looked as though he had just walked through rainforests for several days, his previously dingy armor now covered in smears of dirt and grass and different colors that were probably from the various bodily fluids of whatever lived on the planet. His helmet was off, hanging off his belt slightly, just as dirty as the rest of him, save for one spot where the drawing a flower was prominently shown. It looked like he had taken time to keep it clean. 

His face was scratched up, but most spots didn’t seem deep enough to scar, save for one rather nasty gash on his left cheek, which was bleeding bad enough that Harrna snapped out of her thoughts to step forward, a smile on her face as she slowly reached out a hand up towards it. She stopped as her palm hovered just over the wound, and she looked him in his dark gold eyes.

“May I?”

“I’d appreciate it, sir.” He said, offering a smile back at her.

What Harrna didn’t see was how Flowers’ heart pounded as she seemed to pull from the very air itself to heal his wound, how the world sung and whispered and filled his whole chest and body with a soft, warm feeling, much like how a tooka probably felt when finding a path of warm sun to lay in. What she didn’t know was that it was the same feeling he had when he had calmed down the creature, affectionately named Glooper, when he had told it without speaking that he meant no harm, that he was just as afraid as it was. 

He knew the feeling had a name, one the galaxy had given it and that the Jedi used almost without care, but clones didn’t get the luxury of that name. Flowers knew this. He didn’t dare call it what he wanted to. It was simply The Warmth or The Chill, and it was something he had learned to heed, especially after Tanxion. 

When she pulled away her hand, his cheek gash nothing more than a thin line, she looked at him with a curious glint in her eyes, her head tilted slightly as she examined him. He could  _ feel _ her examining him, and it took every bit of him not to ask her to stop. Instead, he took the warmth he still felt tumbling inside him and pushed one thought, ever so slightly, towards her:  _ Stop _ .

Harrna’s eyes widened for a moment, her warmth retreating away from his, before she smiled, an amused glint in her eyes. Her warmth returned for just a moment, barely a touch at the edge of his, a pass-by, but it was enough to get a thought through 

_ Talk later? _

Flowers nodded ever so slightly, and Harrna mirrored the movement before turning to the other clones. She called her captain over, and they had a rather hurried, quiet discussion, just out of earshot. As they conversed, Flowers found himself drifting back to Glooper, using his warmth to reach out to the creature once more as he placed a single hand on the large head where the nose would presumably be. 

“Hey there, Glooper,” He said softly, rubbing the creature’s snout ever so slightly “How’re you doing, buddy?

_ Goodhappy Glooper. _

Flowers laughed as the mismanaged thoughts and feelings raced through the bond between them, Glooper giving a small, but content huff. Flowers continued smiling, but his eyes grew sad, and he knew his warmth had taken a bit of that sadness too when Glooper whined and pressed further into Flowers’ hand. 

_ Sad Flowers. _

“I’m alright, buddy. Just gonna miss you, is all.”

_ Flowers go? _

“I have to go. There’s more droids out there, I gotta help my  _ vode _ get rid of ‘em.”

_ Glooper go eat droids too? _

“Sorry buddy, I’m afraid not. Republic wouldn’t be too happy with me if I brought you along.”

Glooper let out a low, sad noise, opting to now press its whole head against Flower’s chest, causing the clone to use both arms to hug the slobbering creature.

_ Glooper miss Flowers. _

“I’ll miss you, too. I promise I’ll come back one day, thought.”

_ Glooper be here. Glooper loves Flowers. _

“I love you too, big guy.” 

Flowers squeezed Glooper in a hug as best as he could before pulling away, both physically and warmth-wise, and he watched as the large creature slowly ambled back into the forest it had come from, Flowers’ warmth singing a farewell song deep within his own heart. 

He was so wrapped up in it that he didn’t even notice it when Harrna had gotten up behind him, reaching up a hand to grasp his shoulder. He whirled around, startled by her sudden appearance, and rather surprised his chill hadn’t warned him of her. Was it because she was a Jedi, and she had warmth, too? He didn’t know, he had never met a Jedi properly before, save for short meetings with general Shaak Ti as a cadet, but he never had one try to sneak up on him before. 

“Are you alright, Flowers?” Harrna asked softly, genuine concern radiating out from her warmth. He gave her a smile, but he knew she could feel his sadness.

“I’m alright, sir. Just been a rough few days.” 

“I can imagine. Come on, let's get you up to  _ The Guardian _ , you can clean up, get some food, and get some rest. I think you’ve earned it, trooper.”

\---

Harrna made good on her promise to speak with him. 

She found him sitting alone in the barracks, looking through some of his older journals, looking for design ideas for his new armor set, since the old one had been more-or-less ruined, and while he kept his old design with the Soldier Bloom on his helmet, the rest of his armor was much too plain for being the newest member of the 473rd’s Phoenix Company. Red and gold were staples of their armor, and Flowers had plenty of flowers with that color. The Sunset Ladge was perfect for a shoulder design, and he was already sketching the design on the shoulder piece when she entered, and he almost dropped it when he stood to attention.

“At ease, Flowers. There’s no need for that right now.”

He relaxed just as quickly as he had stood, plopping right back down on his bed with the armor piece in his hand, continuing to sketch on it delicately. Harrna didn’t say anything, simply sat beside him and watched him as worked, only giving her presence away with the occasional laugh when he softly swore after messing up and the constant, comforting warmth that radiated from her. It was a nice environment, quiet, warm, and peaceful. Flowers only could’ve loved it more if there were more plant life around, but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?

The silence was only broken once the sketch was finished. He looked at it with a sense of pride, warmth flooding him once more as he smiled at it. Harrna’s own warmth brushed against his lightly, just for a moment, but it was enough to sense amusement from her.

Amusement and  _ curiosity _ . 

Rather quickly, he drew his warmth back in, fear and worry bringing chill into his bones. Harrna blinked, and looked rather apologetic.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She said, and Flowers gave a slight shrug and not-so-convincing smile.

“It’s alright, sir.”

“You don’t have to say that if it wasn’t, Flowers. Not here.”

That… was surprising. He had heard stories about some Jedi that didn’t care about clones, but it was obvious that Harrna did. It also seemed evident that she really meant him no harm, so, ever so slowly, he opened himself back up, allowing the chill to evaporate within the warmth. He pressed it up against Harrna, cautious, and Harrna beamed. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Flowers said “I don’t want to-”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Harrna rushed, then, slow and even “I swear on my lightsaber, I won’t tell anyone without your permission, Flowers.”

He believed her, and he could feel that she felt that. He couldn’t help but smile shyly. 

“What do you want to know?” He asked, and, still smiling, excitement brimming in her warmth, she replied.

“Whatever you know.”

They talked until it was lights out, and for the first time in a while, Flowers knew that he wouldn’t have to march alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> star wars tumblr: clonesdeservebetter.tumblr.com
> 
> kudos and comments appreciated!


End file.
